


Test Subject

by gothmcty



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Danny Fenton Whump, Danny Whump, Dissection, Gen, Hurt Danny, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sick Danny, Torture, Vivisection, Whump, based around that classic oh no danny’s parents dissect him!!1! concept, so dark context my bad, this takes place pretty early on in the show ofc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothmcty/pseuds/gothmcty
Summary: Danny has the worst nightmare of his teenage life.
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Sam Manson, Danny Fenton/Sam Manson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 75





	Test Subject

**Author's Note:**

> surprise! being half dead and hiding it from your friends and family really messes with your overall mental health and emotional state. who knew? not danny, that’s for sure (:<

The first thing Danny saw when he regained consciousness was a ring of circular light shining harshly against his fluttering eyelids.

There were no faces; only masks hovering above him, the sharp scents of chemicals pricking at his nostrils, and a strange, low humming that filled up his ears and made him feel drowsy.

A groan escaped him. Why didn’t he just go back to sleep? He was already so _tired_.

Stirring slightly, Danny found his wrists and ankles were incapable of moving more than a few centimeters.

He frowned.

Another experimental shifting around confirmed that he was indeed strapped to some sort of—bed? Table? It was hard and uncomfortable, that was for sure. He shut his eyes tightly to regain some focus against the blazing lights that were certainly doing nothing for the dull ache forming in his head. He needed to focus. Or sleep…

_No. Focus._

His eyes flew open.

Something was wrong.

The pressure in his head increased sharply as if it were trying to warn him of what was to come. Every atom in his body bristled. He had to truly fight the brightness around him now to see into the shadowy corners of what appeared to be a large, open room.

He caught a glimpse of frighteningly pointed tools that sent the light dancing across their blades just outside of his line of vision. A murmured word here and there floated past him. Was someone speaking, or was he just hearing things in the buzz surrounding him?

“He’s awake.”

“Who…?“ Danny mumbled, his gaze dazedly scanning the shadows to find where the voice had come from.

“Tighten those. Hurry, he needs another dose.”

“Tighten… what? Dose?” He asked back, confused and more than a little fearful. Something was keeping him out of it, clueless to his situation, all the while teetering on the edge of sleep.

“ ‘S too _loud_ ,” he slurred, his own voice coming out as more of a pathetic whine. The sound of the machines around him were the least of his worries.

Danny gasped as cold, gloved hands reached out and grabbed at the straps holding him down, tightening them so uncomfortably that the edges dug into his skin.

His senses were already more than a little overwhelmed before the syringe plunged its way down into the crook of his arm. A yelp escaped him, more out of surprise than actual pain.

“Wh… what’s… what’s happening?”

Danny struggled dimly against the restraints. The sedative had already begun its steady drip through into his veins. Before long, he’d be lulled back into a calmer state.

His ghost-half, unfortunately, didn’t allow him to slip into a true sleep like a normal human would experience. That would be too merciful.

Unfortunately, he was still awake enough to feel the first cut.

A sharp scalpel had made an incision right at the corner of his temple, increasing the pain in his head to a fiery crescendo. He was yelling, pressing up hard against the bonds holding him, but it did nothing to halt the small trickle of blood now streaming down his jaw and soaking into his ragged white t-shirt.

“No, _stop—!“_

Instead of the bright-green fractals he had expected to ooze up out of his skin, dark red stained the fabric there. He was bleeding _human_ blood.

He had to shift. He had to. It was the only way to get out of this, no longer a choice to fight back. Horrible realization had finally made its way into his muddled mind. How could he manage it? He was so, so tired.

But they were going to tear him apart, piece by piece. He was a freak, and they would dissect him to prove it.

“No _,_ please, you don’t understand,” he begged, pleading with both eyes and words with as much courage as he could muster. “I’m human, really, I am, this is a mistake!”

Danny thrashed wildly on the table, straining against his bonds. He forced himself to ignore the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

“ _See!_ See, I’m _human_ , look, my blood—“

His distressed cries and jerky movements had kept him distracted from noticing the second, larger blade.

The knife came out of nowhere. It twisted in Danny’s gut and he screamed, body trying to fold in upon itself as he shuddered and shook in response. He saw rather than felt the gushing red that fell warmly down his taut abdomen, only increasing the panic racing across his fevered brain. He was shouting, hyperventilating, surely he would die, he _wanted_ to die.

When Danny woke up next, he was drowning in his own blood.

Only in a sense, of course, he realized, once the worst of it had passed and he could again think with some clarity. In the moment, his sheets were only searing chains tying him down to the floor and burning more marks into him, his shirt painfully clinging to every fiber of his body, weighing him down, every inch of the shadows in his familiar room now fighting against him.

He gasped for breath—once, twice, three wracking, pitiful sounds that only succeeded in pushing his panic further. His stomach lurched dangerously and he swallowed thickly, instinctively forcing back the urge to be sick. He could’ve sworn that, even in the darkness, the marks on his wrists left from the restraints were visible.

Danny inhaled shakily, panting. _God_ , had he woken everyone up with his screams?

Glancing over, a small hint of relief comforted him. Sam and Tucker were both out cold, the latter even snoring loudly. Maybe that would cover the sounds of his own heartbeat pounding against his ribs, fighting for freedom.

Another moment later and he realized the dampness he’d felt around him had not been blood, but sweat. _Great_. He had sweat through his sleeping bag like a complete psychopath rather than a normal, functioning teen enjoying a sleepover with his friends.

He lay there for a moment longer, shaking like a leaf from the fear he’d felt so intensely, and the heat of his skin against the cool night air—the sensation of sweat drying against his feverish, clamy skin as his body worked hard in an attempt to calm him down. It was almost ironic how alive he felt now.

‘ _Get over yourself, Fenton,’_ he thought vehemently. He sniffed lightly, rubbing his eyes until stars danced painfully across his vision. The last thing he wanted was to sit there and cry like a little kid.

“Hey, you okay?”

Danny jolted violently, unaware that the sudden movement had made him blink. His glowing green eyes had returned to normal blue just as he turned them to where Sam had been sleeping. Good timing.

She had sat up from her spot on the floor, eyeing him with a look of mild concern.

“I… yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He forced a sheepish smile, well aware of how sickly he must have appeared. An embarrassed heat returned some color to his cheeks.

“Uh, try again.” She reached over and snatched a tissue, gesturing to him. “I’m _pretty_ sure your nose is bleeding.”

Danny groaned, swiping a hand across his face. Sure enough, it came back warm and wet. His imagination convinced him for just a moment that dots of shining neon green were there too. He bit his tongue to ground himself. Nosebleeds in his sleep had become all too common lately, but this one seemed particularly rough.

Sam smiled at him, scooting closer to softly press the tissue against his face.

“Come on, dork,” she teased, not unkindly. “You can steal my pillow for the rest of the night.”

Danny laughed, perhaps a little too quickly.

“So generous of you. I can’t wait to get blood all over it.”

If Sam noticed anything wrong with this sudden switch, she didn’t let on.

“I’ll help get you cleaned up.”

He felt her hand gently take his. Danny was just immensely grateful the room was still dark enough to hide how red his face had flushed at that.

Sam talking comfortingly while she helped wash the blood from his face certainly grounded him in reality. He did feel a bit ridiculous tilting his head over the bathroom sink like some kid who’d thrown up in his sleep, but he was grateful for the normalcy she brought as he easily laughed at her jokes and wondered aloud with her how on earth Tucker was sleeping through all the chaos of the night.

Still, parasitic thoughts nagged at the back of Danny’s brain, as if he’d never truly left that room behind in his dreams. What he’d seen had felt too real for him to recover from so quickly. He could’ve _sworn_ he’d seen that room somewhere before, too.

Even in those hushed tones against that disorienting backdrop of white noise, Danny would’ve recognized his parents’ voices anywhere.


End file.
